


Dirty Twister

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 221B's and Drabbles (Multi-Fandom) [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Board Games with Double O's, Christmas Parties are Odd Places, Crack, Dirty Twister, Especially with the judicious application of alcohol, Ficlet, Gen, Twister (game), paint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*shrugs* It's a game. You don't <em>have</em> to win, James.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Twister

**Author's Note:**

> Heee...just something to kickstart the brain after a bad day. Got the plot bunny from a pic I saw on Tumblr, wrote it in Antidiogenes. 
> 
> I love you guys!
> 
> It's a drabble, so no beta or britpick. All mistakes are mine and mine alone :D

“Right hand.” Bond stared down at his hand, stained a wild arrangement of colors, gripping the plastic playing field tightly. He had to respond to his Quartermaster’s challenge. He took a quick look at the scrawny man’s own right hand, making calculations in his mind lightning fast.

All the other players were already eliminated, and why the HELL were they playing this fucked up game while drunk and bored at Christmas? Strip poker would have been a much better option.

“Green.” He said with a wicked grin on his lips, and moved his arm up a bit. Easy.

Q looked at him. And twisted.

Bond watched as the damned kid moved his torso and somehow ended up turned halfway to the left, his muscles stretched tight over his frame as he reached under Bond’s body and slapped his hand down on the green dot, splattering the paint everywhere. “Ha. Your turn to pick the appendage.”

Bond stared at him for a moment. “Jesus, you are a bendy little shit.”

Q smirked at him, and his fringe (that fucking FRINGE) fell over his glasses. “I dance.”

“Oh?” Damn it, he had to move his right arm, or he was going down, and he’ll be damned before he loses to Q. “Right hand.”

Q grinned. “Yellow.”

Fuck. He was in so much trouble.


End file.
